You Think You Had A Bad Day
by ablondeinaunionjack
Summary: A oneshot discussion between three characters in Biers. Life in Ankh-Morpork is never easy, especially not when you're a morphically challenged officer of the Watch with a human trying to propose...Everything except the plot belongs to Terry Pratchett.


Angua downed the pint that had been set in front of her and nodded to the barman.

"Keep `em coming."

He filled another glass. This time, she resolved not to drink it so quickly. Taking a sip, she turned around on her bar stool. Biers was full of the usual clientele: vampires, bogeymen and ghouls were scattered around the dark bar, avoiding the other customers' eyes. The Librarian was playing his particular form of darts, which consisted of leaning over and hammering the darts in with his fist. Whilst Angua was watching him, the door swung open. There was silence as a woman walked in wearing a Watch uniform. She shut the door and sat next to Angua with a sigh.

"Bloody Mary" she requested.

"Evening, Sally" said the werewolf.

Sally von Humpeding looked across at her.

"Evening."

"Rough day?"

"You could say." Sally took a sip of the unpleasantly thick cocktail. "The mob was outside the Watch house again."

Angua nodded sympathetically.

"What happened?"

"Mister Vimes and Detritus saw them off." Seeing the look on Angua's face, she added: "What about you?"

Angua sighed heavily.

"Carrot. I think he's going to propose any time soon, and then what am I supposed to do? I can't say no, but I can't say yes either. I was on patrol with him earlier, and he didn't have any `fascinating' facts about the city for me. He _always_ has them."

Forgetting her earlier resolution, she downed the drink and nodded at Igor.

"Would it be so bad if he did propose?"

"I _can't _marry him. I'm a werewolf! I can't expect him to put up with me. You know who he'd choose if there was a choice between me and the city. He can't deal with me."

"He's understanding. He can deal with it."

"_Nobody_ can deal with it. PLT, stealing chickens, bad hair days...the list goes on."

"You love him, don't you?"

"Of course I do! But it would never work. There's no point trying."

Sally shook her head, but changed the subject.

"I heard there was a mob outside the Palace."

"When isn't there?" Angua replied. "What was it this time?"

"Koom Valley celebrations. The dwarves and trolls want it, but everyone else is trying to stop it. They're afraid of what happened last year."

Angua shuddered.

"Mister Vimes would go ballistic if that happened again. We lost a lot of good officers." She took a sip of her drink. "What did the Patrician do?"

Sally shrugged.

"He just...watched. They gave up eventually – I think they got bored." The vampire put her glass down delicately on the bar. "Keep them coming, Igor."

Behind them, the door opened again. The bar went quiet as the black cloaked figure came in and sat at the bar, the other side of Angua.

GIVE ME SOMETHING STRONG, it said.

Igor backed away, his face pale.

SORRY. It cleared it's throat. "I mean, sorry. Something strong, please, Igor."

"You told me you wouldn't do that, miss!" stuttered Igor, filling a glass.

The figure removed it's hood to show itself as a striking girl with white hair standing out from her head. Sally nudged Angua.

"Alchemist?" she muttered.

Angua shrugged.

"Death's granddaughter, actually" responded the girl. "Miss Susan."

"_Miss_ Susan?" replied Angua, raising a sceptical eyebrow.

Miss Susan stared at her, and smiled slightly.

"I'm a teacher. I've spent far too much time there" she confided.

Taking the drink proffered by a trembling Igor, she downed it in one.

"Rough day in the classroom?" queried Angua.

Miss Susan set the glass down and looked across at her.

"You have no idea."

"Death's granddaughter? How did that happen?" asked Sally, who had been thinking about it.

"Granddaughter by adoption" answered Miss Susan. "Life being what it is, I can TALK LIKE THIS, and stalk, and stop time. My life is _not_ easy."

"Huh. Tell me about it. You've never had to deal with PLT" responded Angua drily.

"Or had mobs baying for your blood." Sally laughed self-deprecatingly. "Actually, that's the problem. They think _I'm _baying for _their _blood!"

"Think yourself lucky. You've never had to deal with my grandfather" said Miss Susan darkly.

"What's the matter with him?" enquired Sally.

"Everything. He just can't understand humans. He tries: ye gods, he's even got silver-backed hair-brushes in his house! He doesn't have hair! He's got a desk with draw handles and no draws! He tries to be human, but he just doesn't understand!" Miss Susan took a gulp of the drink that Igor had quietly put in front of her. "He cares: he adopted my mother, he apprenticed my father, he likes cats; but he's Death! He can't _be_ human, no matter how hard he tries." Miss Susan sighed, and sat back.

"Another round" ordered Sally. "I'll pay for this one."

Miss Susan smiled gratefully.

"My shift is in half an hour. I'd better have just one more, before I go" decided Angua.

Sally bought their round, and they drank up. Afterwards, Angua stood up.

"I have to go now. It's been...good. Thanks for the drinks, Sally. Miss Susan."

Sally stood up with her.

"I've got the Shades tonight. Miss Susan" she acknowledged.

The Watchwomen left, leaving Miss Susan on her own.

"Another drink, Igor" she requested.

After that, she stood up and left.

In the corner of Biers, a tall dark stranger frowned.

WHAT'S WRONG WITH MY HAIRBRUSHES?


End file.
